


sanctuary

by Miss_Inginaction



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Boys In Love, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, a somewhat drabble, i just love them sm, it's 2021 and the author hates emotions, not really a fic just a bit of shitty writing that is put out here bc why not, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Inginaction/pseuds/Miss_Inginaction
Summary: he kisses like this is forever, like it’s all he’s ever done, every single time.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Park Jisung
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> just some nosung

“I don’t know, hyung…” 

Jisung’s fingers tap against the links of the swing chains, chipped nail polish on rusted metal. It’s a familiar beat; Jeno barely knows the song. He _remembers_ it, but only the music- blue, slow synth beats, hands intertwined, lips against warm skin against faded white bedsheets and wanting, breathless words that turned into off-beat lyrics that clashed too hard with the singer’s own. 

Yesterday. He never asked Jisung the song’s name. He probably should.

“Ever think that certain people’s lives might have been perfect, if only you hadn’t existed in them?” 

Jeno doesn’t pretend to think- he just looks. The boy’s face is hidden in shadow, but he knows it’s contemplative melancholy; the withering remains of bloomed blood-red roses that he only keeps in his room to keep his parents out of it, the bouquet of daffodils Giselle had sent him and he’d torn apart in Jeno’s lap, yellow petals scattered over his clothes and broken green stems lying between his legs as he’d looped arms around the elder’s neck and leaned in and kissed him senseless. The light hidden under his mascara-thick eyelashes as he’d pulled Jeno by the hand to his mother’s room afterwards, leaving the pile of crumpled flowers on her bed with a single untouched scarlet rose lying on top. A reminder. 

Jeno still gives him those- roses as red as a beating heart, slipped into his messy black hair when he kisses him goodbye through his bedroom window. 

It’s not sadness, it’s only thinking about what maybe could have been. What isn’t. One of his moods; somehow, Jeno lo- likes him all the more for it. 

“Yeah, sometimes.” 

He meets Jisung’s eyes and grins. 

“But you might as well exist. Because it’s selfish, but it keeps the two of us alive, doesn’t it?”

Jisung drops his gaze and turns away, rolling his eyes. His ears are pink, Jeno notices. And his cheeks flush a wavering cerise that proves he hasn’t lost the weight of Jeno’s words. 

“Shut up.” 

He laughs, loud and bright; even though it disturbs the stillness of the early morning and cuts through the thin air in a complete contrast to the mood, he sees the corners of Jisung’s lips lift. 

Honestly, they shouldn’t be here; soon, the sun’ll rise and they won’t be where they _should_ be; Jisung at his violin concert trapped in string music he hates with every fibre of his soul, Jeno at the studio practicing love stories with a girl, pretending with every turn of his limbs that instead she’s a boy with black hair and blue eyes and a lilting voice that would sing along with the contemporary music if he could. Maybe one day Jisung will come to a recital and watch, know that Jeno’s performing to his favourite song to show him a story written just for him, a love story. Maybe he’ll dance, too, twirling onstage into Jeno’s arms like he’s always wanted to try doing. 

But, well, right now, here they are and Jeno’s never been one for worrying too much further than that.

“Wanna go get ice cream?” 

Jisung turns back to blink confusedly at him. “It’s four thirty.” 

He shrugs, then stands up, holding out a hand as he murmurs. “Exactly.” 

And when Jisung blushes and takes it, folding his slender fingers around Jeno’s as they walk out of the old forgotten playground, he figures there’s worse things to not worry about. 

Because they’re both going to regret this the tiniest bit later; when Jeno stumbles into the studio late and half-asleep, when Jisung steps into the concert hall to meet the silent furious gazes of adults who are supposed to love him but don’t because he’s not the way they want him to be- and maybe even when they meet each other drained at the end of the day and do it all over again. 

But for now, Jisung pauses and turns, looking up amusedly into Jeno’s eyes. Then his smile cracks and he breaks without warning, falling against the elder boy’s chest, curling a hand into his hair and leaning in oh so stupidly desperately. 

Jeno slides arms around his waist, letting him take whatever he wants. He tastes like vanilla and burnt caramel and smoke like he always does; such a ruined candy shop. He’s so pretty. And he kisses like this is forever, like it’s all he’s ever done, every single time. Jeno kisses him back like he has nothing to lose. 

It’s all they both want to do, want to live for; midnight rendezvous and stolen laughter, love against broken city walls and abandoned parks, bedroom windows, colours, silent words, cherry-coloured flower petals left with soft presses of lips that stay as long as the next time when they meet- and stay and _exist_ and take each other apart and put each other together. 

This is just them; this is their sanctuary.

**Author's Note:**

> ~the end~ 
> 
> like always, i'd die for comments, kudos or lowkey any feedback :) thanks for checking this out! happy new year~


End file.
